


Lollipops Are Not Sufficient Substitutes

by ArtemisPrime



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, M/M, alternative universe, no powers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-12 17:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4489116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisPrime/pseuds/ArtemisPrime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky Barnes is the producer of a local late night talk show, hosted by Steve Rogers.  Well, maybe producer isn't the right word.  More like firefighter as he tries to extinguish the fires started by Steve's moral crusades.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Bucky stared at the screen and morosely finished his second doughnut of the day. PR had to do yet another apology letter for the actions of one night-time talk show host Steven Rogers, whose sole purpose in life seemed to be making headache after headache for his producer James “Bucky” Barnes. He leaned back in his chair and sighed. This was to be the year that the show would start fresh. They’d hired a new director, Maria Hill, brought in new musicians courtesy of Barton and had decided on a new decor for the set as per Coulson’s suggestions. And Steve had been told, quite clearly if Bucky recalled, that he was to refrain from calling people “Nazi-wannabes” and multi-headed monsters. 

So it rankled when Steve continued on, oblivious to the growing hostility he was creating for himself and the studio. He argued that his job was to bring to light the wrongs in America, and the world, and to get people to act. He wasn’t any longer calling company presidents racist child molesters directly, but the insinuations were still there. This had the foreseen consequence of the station being deluged with nasty e-mails and phone calls from company CEO offices and threats from advertisers of pulling their support.

“Hey, man,” Sam poked his head around the open door to Bucky’s office. “You up for a break?”

Bucky shrugged. “Sure, why not.” He rose and grabbed his jacket from behind his chair. “PR’s apology letter can wait another few minutes.” He slid his arms through the sleeves, but left the front buttons open. 

“Rogers causing more chaos?” Sam asked as they made their way through the studio to a back exit.

Bucky lifted an eyebrow. “When isn’t he? I swear, I think he gets off on this. Just loves getting everyone to beat up on him.” They stepped outside onto a small landing leading from the exit, with stairs emerging onto the back driveway of the studio. The mid Spring day was bright, but chilly. Bucky pulled his jacket around himself, hastily wiping away powdered sugar on his tie. “I just don’t know what to do anymore, Sam.” He patted his pocket and pulled a cigarette, which was promptly snatched away. “Hey!”

Sam shook his head, keeping the smoke away from Bucky. “You quit, remember? And you promised me that it was going to stick this time.”

“That was before the studio got a call from Summer Farms.”

“The pig housing conditions bit?” Sam asked.

Bucky nodded.

Sam whistled. “Biggest corporate farm in the country is pissed at you?”

“No, they’re pissed at Steve for alluding to animal abuse without any substantial facts. Evidence that apparently only came from some starlet hellbent on making the country vegan. Or so Summer Farms says.” Bucky grimaced. “Jesus.” He subconsciously reached into his pocket for another smoke, only to have it taken as well. “Come on, Sam! This could mean the end of the show! Gimme a bone, here.”

Sam shook his head, crushing both cigarettes. “You say this every time and every time the show gets higher ratings and all the advertisers forget about their threats. The studio gets press and it all calms down.” He held his hand out for any remaining cigarettes.

“Yeah, until Steve does another head long charge into television suicide. Can’t he think once about the rest of us. God, I love the guy, but my blood pressure can’t take much more of this.” Bucky exaggeratedly patted his pockets to show that there were no more cigarettes. Sam didn’t quite believe him, but said nothing.

A small wind gust blew past. Bucky tried to pull his jacket tighter.

Sam eyed him. “Seems your waistline can’t take much more either.”

“Fuck off,” Bucky said, only half serious. “Not all of us have the time to spend eight hours a day at the gym. Some of us have actual jobs.”

“Okay man, okay.” Sam raised his hands in surrender. “I’m just saying that you gotta find some way to deal with the stress.”

Bucky glared. “I’m not doing fucking yoga.”

Sam shrugged. “It’s helped lots of people. But okay.” He gazed out at the parked cars in the lot. “You seeing anyone?”

“You know I’m not.” Bucky knew that Sam was coming from a good place, that he was legitimately concerned for Bucky’s well-being, but it didn’t make Bucky feel any more comfortable talking about it. Since becoming producer (the youngest producer at the studio thank-you very much), dating had been non-existent, let alone any kind of relationship. 

“When exactly do I have time for that? Running this show is exhausting. Throw in Steve ‘fight for the little guy’ Rogers and all the fires I have to put out because of him and there’s barely time to sleep.” Bucky sighed and wished - again - that he hadn’t made that stupid 32nd birthday promise to quit smoking. 

“You gotta make the time, man.” Sam fished into his own jacket pocket and pulled out an orange lollipop, handing it to Bucky. “Book Saturday night free because we are gonna hit the town.”

Bucky took the proffered candy, grateful for the cigarette substitute. “Sam, I don’t think your version of hitting the town and mine are gonna jive.”

Sam shrugged. “So we’ll go to some ‘diverse’ bars where you can get yours and I can get mine.”

Bucky choked and nearly lost his sucker. “Won’t Natasha have your balls for that?”

Sam grinned slyly. “How do you think we’re gonna know which bars to go to?”

Both men began laughing until the door burst open. “Oh, hey,” Steve greeted. “They said you’d gone out here. Sorry to interrupt, but I was reading a story about declining bee populations and I really think that this is something we should look into.”

Bucky scratched his head, perhaps a little harder than necessary and crunched his candy. He eyed Sam as though to say _See? This is what I have to put up with. Bees!_

Sam chuckled and pushed Bucky past Steve and through the open door. “Saturday night, my man. Saturday night.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Saturday night and that's all right for dancing.

“Stop doing that, man. You look fine.” Sam smacked Bucky’s hand away from yet another smooth down his chest.

“Like hell I do,” Bucky groused. “Damn shirt shrunk. Best one, too.”

Sam lifted a brow, but said nothing about it. “C’mon.” He grabbed his jacket and keys. “Let’s go.”

How Sam managed to talk Bucky into this Saturday night fiasco was still a mystery. Saturday had seemed so far away when Bucky had agreed last Tuesday. Probably some kind of diversionary tactic had been in play, something taught to accountants in accounting school.

Bucky reached for his own coat and swore lightly as his shirt once again became untucked. Tugging it down and into pants that weren’t quite as loose as before, Bucky threw on his jacket and stomped out of his condo. “You’re buying the first round.”

Sam smiled. “Sure. Whatever you want.” They hopped down the few steps onto the sidewalk then hailed a cab. Shortly after, they were at Gomorrah’s.

Bucky stepped out of the cab and stopped. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. Sam, this place is-”

“Exactly what you need. Now let’s head in. It’s cold out here.” He grabbed Bucky’s elbow and dragged him to the entrance.

“Mr. Wilson,” the greeter said. “Right on time. I’ve your table ready for you and your party. Just follow Taylor right in.”

“Thanks, Dugan.” Sam slipped a $20 into Dugan’s hand as they shook.

“My pleasure. Always willing to help out a friend of Natasha’s. She’ll be coming?”

Sam nodded.

“Right this way, sirs,” a young man with a name tag of “TAYLOR” instructed.

The three men made their way inside and Bucky could see that this was going to be a long night of very loud, very vibrating music. He didn’t know if his head could handle the pounding.

“Your coats, sirs.” Taylor held out his hand while Sam and Bucky shrugged off their jackets and gave them to Taylor. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Nah, man. We’re okay.” He slid easily into the large, circular booth. Bucky followed suit, his eyes narrowing. “Sam?”

Sam eyed the wine list on the table. “Mm?”

“Why do we have this very large booth when we’re only expecting Natasha?”

Sam frowned and shrugged. “Beats me.”

Bucky noticed the reserve card on the table. ‘Wilson: party of 10.’ “Who else is coming?”

“I may have inadvertently told Quill.”

“Jesus! You know that guy can’t hold a secret. The whole God damn studio is bound to show.”

Sam looked to the bar. “Could be.”

Only through extreme willpower did Bucky not bang his head on the table. Sam planned the whole thing, no inadvertent at all. “I thought the point of all of this,” Bucky emphasised ‘point,’ “was to get away from the job. Let it all go. Avoid the ulcer that is likely growing as we speak.”

“We are. And you will.” He smiled as he looked up. “And this is step one.” He slapped Bucky on the shoulder.

“Steam Whistle, sirs.” Taylor set down two bottles and pint glasses then swiftly began pouring.

Bucky was confused. “We didn’t order these. And we sure as hell didn’t order a beer that you can’t get south of the border.”

“Mr. Wilson pre-ordered, sir. And we were able to find a...source who could bring it down from Toronto for us.” With a nod, Taylor left.

“Cheers, Bucky.” Sam lifted his glass then nudged Bucky to do the same.

“Cheers,” Bucky sighed. He took a gulp. “But I swear that if Quill gets the DJ to play That Song again, I will not be held accountable.” 

Sam only laughed.

*****

At some point, the studio crew found their way to the bar and the reserved table. A small commotion started because of Maria’s boyfriend. Apparently, Brian Reisicz was a big name for the Rangers they had to deal with a few fans wanting a picture or autograph. That settled quickly enough. Now, people seemed to be enjoying themselves. While Natasha was adamant about not dancing, she was much less so about drinking, ordering vodka shots for the table. Maria and Brian danced a little, encouraging Jane and Audrey to do the same. Sam watched as Coulson gazed out at Audrey as she moved gracefully to the beating bass.

“Go on, man,” Sam gently nudged Phil. “Go dance with her.”

Coulson shook his head. “Oh, I’m not much for dancing.” He swallowed heavily.

Sam slid over a leftover shot. “Drink then dance.”

Phil eyed Sam. “But-”

Sam shook his head. “Doesn’t matter if you can or can’t. She’ll appreciate the effort.” He gestured to the glass. “Get to it.”

Taking a deep breath, Phil nodded then downed the drink. He rose from the booth and straightened his jacket and tie before striding purposefully towards Audrey.

Jane arrived back a the table with a smile not too long after. “Didn’t want to interrupt,” she said by way of explanation.

Sam lifted his glass.

“And I know what you’re doing, Sam Wilson,” she added.

Sam gestured to himself, wide-eyed and innocent looking.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jane grinned.

Sam leaned across to her. “You know, there’s this guy who works with Natasha. Big blond dude. If I were into guys...” He lifted a brow.

“If you were into guys, I’d be a happier woman,” Natasha finished and draped her arm over his should and patted his chest.

*****

Okay, so the beer was great and went down easily. So did the next four. And the two shots in between. And finally, finally, some decent music came on and Bucky just had to - had to - get out there and move. He swung, he shimmied, he turned like a dancing superstar. He forgot that his shirt had popped out of his jeans or that his jeans were sitting a little lower than they had at the beginning of the night.

He waved at Coulson and cheered him on. The man was at a danceclub and in a suit. A suit! Doing some kind of awkward shuffle hand shake thing with the cello woman. Amy. Alison. Arnold. Whatever. Oooh, a new song! Ooga, chaka, baby!

He sidled over to a very attractive guy and they moved together until the song changed. Not because another guy came in between and oh so not subtly pushed Bucky out. But hey, there’s another attractive guy. He had to give it to Natasha, or Sam, heck both of them. He really loved them. They were great. Really great.

“Yer great,” Bucky announced to the table before he finished off yet another beer.

“Hey! That’s mine!” Clint reached across for his glass that was now empty. “Aw, beer.”

Bucky slouched into the booth, scrunching in against Maria’s boyfriend. “Yer great.” He said again. He took another look and then his face lit up. “Yer that guy!” he yelled. “On the team. With the...” He tried to snap his fingers. “Puck.” He then burst out laughing. “Puck. That rhymes with-”

“And that’s enough from you,” Maria intervened, pushing across a pitcher of water and an empty glass.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Clint cried again.

*****

It was a very good thing that Sam was Bucky’s friend. Because friends did nice things for each other. Friends looked out for one another. Friends made sure that bad things didn’t happen if they could be avoided.

“Friends,” he muttered under his breath as Bucky tried, and failed, to once again flop himself across Sam’s lap in the back of the taxi.

“Good show,” Bucky slurred. “Chandle was cute.” He giggled. “Cu’.”

“Mm-hm,” Sam agrees as he removed Bucky’s arms from his lap and neck. “Chandle sure was. Chandler, too.” He pushed Bucky to the side of the cab.

Bucky sighed the sigh of the drunk who has yet to experience the hangover.

“He looks cute,” Natasha whispered from next to Sam.

“He does that.” Sam thought of taking a picture, but it didn’t seem quite right, given that Bucky was completely out of it. Of course, he could have a little fun. He curled Bucky’s hand into a limp fist and pushed Bucky’s thumb into his mouth. 

Natasha laughed and stroked her fingers across Sam’s head.

Shortly afterwards, the cab stopped at a non-descript brick walk-up.

“Think you can handle him?” Natasha asked, nodding to Bucky, now drooling over his thumb.

“Won’t be the first. Won’t be the last.” He curled his hand around the back of Natasha’s head, gliding his fingers through her hair. He kissed her. “Thanks for understanding,” he finally said.

Natasha looked at him intently. “You’re a good man, Sam Wilson.” She smoothed her hand down his cheek then quickly exited the taxi. She was up and in the building before Sam could say good-bye. 

He leaned back in the seat. “7th Ave and W. 19th Street, please,” he tells the driver before looking once again at sleeping beauty. “Damn, man, you better appreciate the things I do for you.”

*****

Sam practically dropped Bucky onto his bed once they made it back to the condo. He lifted Bucky’s feet and pulled off his shoes. He eyed the exposed tummy from where his shirt had ridden up and wondered at how many doughnuts the boy was actually eating in a day.

Sam managed to get Bucky to lie on his side and then pulled the bathroom garbage pail next to it, just in case. They’d managed to get a bunch of water into Bucky before they left the bar, but it may not have been enough.

Finding an afghan at the foot of the bed, a fair trade gift from Steve last Christmas, Sam pulled it over Bucky, who snuggled down into it. As Sam was turning out the light, Bucky spoke. “Yer a goo’ frien’, Sam.”

“I know.”

“Stee’, too. When he’s no’ drivin’ me craz’.”

Sam nodded. “He is. Now don’t get sick ‘cause I ain’t cleaning up your puke.” He closed the door to a whispered “Steve.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was Bucky's lucky day.

The expected ribbing and general humiliation of Bucky on Monday morning was expected. What wasn’t expected was The Dog.

Specifically, having the dog decide to make his stage debut while filming.

Someone who shall remain nameless, but who was very clearly instructed to be musical and sound director and not bringer in of pet dogs to work, let his dog join him for the day. 

And said someone lost focus of his dog who discovered that Steve and his guest were discussing the benefits of organic, locally grown ingredients vegan pizza. The dog decided to do his own taste test when he hopped onto the couch arm and snagged a slice.

It become something of a comedy act as Steve began to laugh, the dog began to pull the entire pizza off Steve’s desk and the guest jumped up before she was covered with upturned pizza and a dog’s butt in her lap. Clint ran onto the stage and the mutt bolted, trailing vegan cheese and gluten free crust with him.

Bucky groaned off-stage then took up the chase as the dog loped past. All the while, Steve maintained his professionalism, commenting that the dog had good taste, that the pizza was given two paws up and to remind his audience to donate generously to the local SPCA.

With impeccable timing, the dog ducked under Steve’s desk only to pop his head up and woof just as Steve finished his spiel. Then it was a commercial break.

*****

“I know this looks bad,” Clint began, sitting awkwardly in Bucky’s office. The dog’s leash was wrapped tightly around Clint’s hand, “but in Lucky’s defence, there was pizza.”

“Pizza? That’s your excuse for that thing running rampant around the studio,” Bucky began. “Who could have caused thousands of dollars of damage and who knows what else?”

“But he didn’t!” Clint rubbed Lucky’s ear. “He’s a good boy.”

“Whether he did or didn’t isn’t the point!” Bucky rubbed the space between his eyebrows, feeling his headache expand. God, a smoke would be so awesome right now. He took a deep breath and leaned against his desk. “You wanna tell me why the mutt was here to begin with?”

Clint rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes darting. “Well, there’s been some trouble at my building lately. Some Russian mob guys.”

Bucky straightened. “Jesus, Clint, don’t tell me you’re mixed up with gangsters?”

Clint shrugged sheepishly. “Kinda?” At Bucky’s incredulous expression, he added “Not really. They’ve just been causing trouble. Wanting to take over the building and scare out the tenants. Only now, they’ve upped their game. Mr. Ruiz’s cat went missing and well, I was kinda worried.”

“Oh, Clint, why didn’t you say anything,” Steve jumped in, scaring Bucky half to death. The man could be stealthy when he wanted. “I could’ve given you some places to let Lucky stay until the police deal with it all.”

“Rogers,” Bucky began, “this really isn’t a good time for you to be here.”

Steve straightened to his full height and breadth and damn if Bucky didn’t get a little thrill. Steve always carried himself hunched in, like he wasn’t used to his body being as big as it was. “Sounds to me like you were yelling at Clint for something that wasn’t his fault.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. Just one cigarette. Hell, one drag would be enough. “This isn’t an idealistic crusade or campaign.”

Steve crossed his arms over his chest. “I dunno. Corporate bigwigs not allowing a man to protect his beloved dog, leaving the poor dog defenseless against the mafia. Animal rights groups would have a field day with that one.”

“I am not a corporate bigwig!” Bucky yelled. “This is about the integrity of the show. Of at least maintaining some semblance of professionalism. And that mutt’s display made everyone look ridiculous.”

“You mean you,” Steve said, arms crossed over his chest.

“Gentlemen.”

“And you,” Bucky countered, his body mimicking Steve’s.

“I was not in any way feeling ridiculous.” Steve took a step into the office.

“Gentlemen.”

“What about your guest? God only knows how this will play out for her and her business.” Bucky took a step towards Steve.

“Gentlemen!” Maria’s voice yelled above the two arguing men.

Steve and Bucky both turned. “What?”

She eyed them as she pushed herself past Steve into Bucky’s office. “Clint? Your dog made an impression on the ‘corporate bigwigs.’”

Clint scratched Lucky’s head. “He does that.”

“He’s also going to be on tv.” She faced Bucky and Steve. “The show airs. As is.”

“Ha!” Steve crowed.

“Maria!” Bucky began.

Hill raised her hands to forestall further arguments. “I just got off the phone with Fury. He says we keep it, no editing out of the dog.”

“Yes,” Clint crowed. “Hear that Lucky?” He leaned down to the dog’s ear. “You’re gonna be a star!”

“Oh for the love of...” Bucky groaned.

Maria turned to Steve and Clint. “You wanna give some space, boys?” She faced Bucky without waiting for them to answer. Seconds later, the door clicked closed.

Before Bucky could begin, Maria started. “I know it’s not ideal. And it’s definitely not like what the big guys do over at Rockefeller, but we’re not them. We’re a small station in a large market. We can’t hope to compete seriously with Late Night or Tonight, so we do what we can to give ourselves a voice.”

“And you think letting a dog run wild on set is it?” He leaned against his desk.

“Of course not,” Maria answered, sliding over to Bucky. “But it draws interest. People love animals and Lucky is a cute dog.” She shoulder bumped him. “Fury and the other execs saw the daily and think that this will actually be good for Steve, therefore, good for us. Something about making Rogers more ‘every man’ and less the superhero.” She stopped to think. “What was the name he’s picked up? Colonel Justice? Corporal DoGood?” 

_Captain America_ , Bucky thought disdainfully.

She shook her head. “Whatever. Fury says it stays.” 

Bucky reluctantly nodded, allowing a moment of silence between them. He slid a sly look to Maria. “Shouldn’t the pep talks come from the producer, not the director?”

Maria shrugged. “I have many skills.” She pushed herself off the desk and walked to the closed door. “Try not to worry too much about it, Barnes. It’ll all work out. If it helps, I was ready to kill Barton myself.” She turned the knob. “But it was funny to see you two chasing after that thing.” She strode out of the office with a loud “Happy Monday, y’all!” down the hall.

Bucky crossed the floor and flopped on the loveseat that had been occupied by Clint and the wild animal. He rubbed his face then leaned his head against the back cushion. Of course the brass would turn this into some kind of ‘Captain America’ thing. Would boost ratings (hopefully) and keep the show going a while longer. Heck, maybe the national feeds would pick up on it and it could make some Week in Review show. He bolted upright. Shit! What if the camera caught him chasing the dog? He screwed his eyes shut and groaned.

There was a soft knock and a quiet “Hey.”

Speaking of Captain America. Bucky’s headache just got worse. He slowly rose and went back to his desk, fishing around in a drawer for some aspirin. The empty bottle he found was not comforting.

“I find that drinking water actually helps to relieve a headache more than pills,” Steve said.

“I find that not having a circus in a studio works better. Prevention and all that.” He sighed deeply.

“So I just wanted to apologise,” Steve began. “I shouldn’t have gotten so emotional. I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“Well, it’s been that kind of day.”

Steve chuckled and pushed his hands deeper into his pants pockets.

“I’m sorry, too.”

Steve smiled and nodded his head.

There was an awkward silence until Steve blurted “Are you in trouble?”

Bucky straightened, tossing the empty aspirin bottle on top of the desk. “No. Not really.”

“Because it wasn’t your fault. I should have tried to hold onto Lucky - was that the dog’s name?”

Bucky nodded.

“To keep Lucky from running.”

“Wasn’t your fault. Don’t worry about it.” Bucky slumped into his chair, once again patting his pocket for a cigarette. Fucking promise. He opened the desk drawer that he had usually kept a spare package of cigarettes in and found a sucker. Damn that Sam Wilson for knowing Bucky’s secret stashes. Or not so secret apparently.

Bucky ripped off the cellophane wrapping and bit down hard, letting the fake strawberry flavour swirl in his mouth. 

Steve pushed his hands into his khaki pockets. “Well, how about some food?”

Bucky looked up. “What?”

Steve shrugged. “I know a nice little Vietnamese place, not too far from here. You game?”

Bucky looked up at Steve’s open face. He could see why it was hard to say no to someone like Steve, especially when he was convincing you that a moral injustice had to be righted.

“Why not,” Bucky finally said. “It still raining outside?” He stood and grabbed his jacket.

“Don’t worry,” Steve answered. “I have an umbrella we can share.” He grinned. “Just let me get it and I’ll meet you out front.” He quickly left.

Bucky crunched his candy. Steve really didn’t see the intimacy of two men walking down a New York street sharing one umbrella. Especially when one of those men was maybe, possibly developing ‘something’ for the other. A something that was marginally unethical given their working relationship.

But Jesus, Mary and Joseph, it could be spectacularly wonderful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The inspiration for Lucky's debut came from Storm, the weather dog. You can see his tv debut [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YCkuH0uA67g>here</a>.).
> 
> It may also take a little longer to post chapters 4 and 5. My original plan was to have four chapters, but that doesn't seem to be working out :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has some news for Bucky.

The rain had picked up in intensity just as Steve and Bucky stepped into the small, out of the way Vietnamese restaurant. The rain seemed to have kept patrons away as there were only a half dozen other people in the place.

A waitress arrived with glasses of water and menus. Steve appeared to know something about Vietnamese cuisine so Bucky was content to order what Steve recommended. Once that was done, they were left to stare at each other.

“So, funny day today, huh?” Steve said after taking a sip of his drink. 

Bucky huffed. “That’s one way to look at it.”

“Ah, cheer up, Buck. No one got hurt and you still have your job.”

Buck. That was new. He kinda liked it.

Steve stirred his straw around the ice in his drink. “It was nice, though.” He stared out the window at the rain soaked street.

“What was?” Bucky gazed at Steve.

Steve was silent a little too long.

“Steve?”

Steve startled. “What? Oh, I just meant having a dog. It was nice to have him there.” He grinned shyly.

“You have obviously never had a dog, Rogers.” Bucky took a drink. 

“I take it you have?”

Bucky nodded. “Oh yes. My father insisted, saying that all boys need a dog growing up. My mother? She wasn’t quite as thrilled so they compromised on a terrier. Damn thing barked at every sound and ate my best sneakers.”

Steve chuckled and Bucky decided that he liked that sound.

*****

Dinner ended up being a longer than expected affair. Bucky knew in an abstract sort of way that Steve likely ate a lot. He was too full of muscle to have a normal diet. But that did little to prevent Bucky from being blown away at how much Steve could pack away. 

“Is this a normal meal for you?” Bucky gestured at the empty plates.

Steve ducked his head. “Sorta. I’ve got this thing with my metabolism. It runs high.”

“No shit.” Bucky had only finished his soup and two fresh spring rolls. He shook his head before finishing the last roll.

By the time the meal ended, Bucky was pleasantly full. He wiped his fingers on a napkin and leaned back in his seat. “I’m done.” He tossed the napkin in an empty bowl.

The waitress returned to clear the dishes. “Can I get you some dessert?”

Steve beamed. “Yes, Rose. We’d like a Mango Flower.”

Rose nodded. “Sure thing.”

Bucky let out a huff. “Dunno if I can eat another bite.” The pinching of his waistband was telling him to definitely not have more.

“Yeah, the food here is good.” Steve gazed down at the laminate table then looked out the window just past Bucky’s shoulder to the rainy streets. There was a haze to the lights. “Always liked the rain in the city.”

“And do you like long walks on the beach and talking about your feelings, too?”

“The beach here isn’t as good as the one - hey!” Steve flicked some water at Bucky who was now laughing. 

“Okay, okay. I surrender,” Bucky called out with a laugh in his voice. He smirked at Steve.

“Jerk.”

“Punk.”

Thankfully, the waitress returned with the dessert. Steve dipped a spoon into the Mango Flower ice cream and moaned a little. “That’s the ticket. Here.” He grabbed another spoon and dipped it in, holding it out for Bucky. “Try this.”

Bucky was momentarily stunned. Did Steve understand just what exactly he was doing? “Uh.”

“Go on. It won’t bite.” He jiggled the spoon a little.

 _Oh for God’s sake, man. Grow up._ He grabbed the spoon and swallowed the ice cream, immediately understanding Steve’s reaction. “Oh, that is good.” He dug into bowl.

“Huh? What’d I tell ya.” Steve smiled.

“Yeah, yeah. You were right,” Bucky answered between bites. Before he realised, the dessert was gone. “We’re gonna have to come back here.”

Steve looked up sharply. “We?”

Fuck. That Steve picks up on. Not the umbrella thing or the Buck thing or the hundred other things Steve seemed to be doing. Nope. It’s the Goddamn ‘we.’ “Uh, yeah. You know, the studio and everyone.”

Steve was eerily still then blinked. “Of course. Right.” He half-grinned. 

The waitress cleared the table then placed a bill next to each man for their own meals, preventing an argument over who paid. Because this wasn’t a date. “No rush,” she added. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Thanks, Rose. You’re a peach,” Steve said.

“No problem, doll.”

Bucky watched the little exchange. “You come here a lot?”

Steve half-shrugged. “Some.” He looked out the window. “Makes it easier sometimes,” he said softly.

They were quiet a few minutes, Steve watching the city and Bucky watching Steve.

Abruptly, Steve returned his attention to the table. “So I have this opportunity.”

Good thing the food was all gone otherwise Bucky would have choked. Opportunity was code for job offer. Steve was going to leave the show. Bucky did a quick mental check for when Steve’s contract ran out and what could be done to keep him. With the studio. Keep him with the studio and not just so Bucky could... “Is it the money?”

Steve’s forehead creased. “Um, no.”

“Oh thank God,” Bucky sighed then straightened. “It’s the hours. You want to cut back to four days a week like the big boys. You know that’s going to be tough, but I can talk to Fury, hell, even Stark if I have to.”

Steve shook his head. “Buck, it’s not about the show.”

“Of course it is. There’s something that’s putting you off it. What is it? Just tell me and I can fix it.” God, he hoped he could fix it. But if the Big Boys really did give Steve an offer, there wasn’t a whole lot Bucky could do. He patted his pocket for a lollipop and then looked around the restaurant. Weren’t these places supposed to give out after dinner mints or candies or something?

“Bucky, there’s nothing wrong.”

Bucky would argue, if ever asked, that it was simply the rush of the sweet dessert hitting him. Because that could be the only reason. The only reason his heart stuttered when he looked back at Steve, at that face, with those soft eyes and wet lips in a small smile.

And Christ above, Bucky was not about to deny that man anything.

Hell, he might even tell Steve to take the job, if it meant that the rest of the country could see just what kind of man Steve Rogers really is. The country, and the world, deserved to see that face on their screens every night, telling them how to make the world a better place. Bucky wasn’t going to stop that from happening.

“You should take it.”

Steve cocked his head. “I haven’t even told you what it is.”

“No. You should definitely go for it. The pay will be better and you can set your own schedule.”

“Well, I don’t know about the schedule, but the pay-”

Bucky continued, oblivious. “I’ll figure out some way to let you out of your contract, no matter how much Fury yells at me.”

Steve leaned back in his booth seat and stared at Bucky for a moment. Bucky couldn’t take the scrutiny so he fiddled with his wallet and calculated a tip on his bill and Jesus, when did it get so hot in here?

“Bucky?”

Carry the three. Add five. Yeah, okay, that should be enough. Bucky pulled out some cash and set them under the bill. “Hmm?”

“Do you think I’ve been offered a job somewhere else?” Steve spoke slowly.

Bucky’s brow creased. “That’s what this was all about, right? A great dinner and conversation to butter me up for the bad news?”

Steve smiled. “You really think that I’m...” He began to laugh. “Oh man!” He was now full out laughing, hand over his heart and everything.

Bucky glared. “This isn’t funny, Steve. Not to inflate your ego here or anything, but you’re the entire show. Without you, there is no Later New York. So can the laughter.” And fuck you for laughing at me.

Steve’s laughter calmed, but his smile was still as bright. “I’m sorry, Buck.” He chuckled a last little bit. “Honestly, I am. But there is no job offer. No one’s knocking on my door.”

What the hell?

“Then what was all this?” Bucky spread out his hands.

Steve breathed in. “Peru.”

Huh?

“I’m going to Peru during the hiatus to help build a school and clinic.”

Bucky opened his mouth then closed it slowly. He could almost hear the gears turning in his head. He laid his hands out onto the table, fingers stretching. “No job.”

Steve shook his head. “Just the work in-”

“No. Job,” Bucky interrupted.

Steve gave a closed-mouth grin and hunched his shoulders.

 _I am going to kill him_ , Bucky thought. _Before he finally gives me a stroke or heart attack._ “You gave me an ulcer, you...meatball!”

Steve was now shaking, trying to keep from bursting out with laughter. Unfortunately, it was contagious and Bucky soon found himself grinning and then laughing along. Bucky thought he had a handle on himself, but when Steve said “Meatball?”, Bucky lost it.

“Ah, man,” Bucky finally gasped, getting his breathing under control. He rubbed his eye. “Seriously? You’re actually going to build a school in some overgrown jungle?”

“Yeah, I actually am.”

Steve really was Captain America.

At that moment, Steve’s phone beeped and he pulled it out of his pocket. “Crap.” He pulled out some money to pay for his meal and hastily rose from the table. “I’m sorry, Bucky, but I gotta go.”

Bucky was having trouble with the abrupt turn. “Okay?”

“It’s just this thing that I promised and I have to go. Now. But I had a good time.” He gave a shy smile and walked towards the exit. 

“Me, too,” Bucky said as he watched Steve leave.

He then smacked his hand to his forehead. “Meatball.”

*****

The next morning, Bucky found a package of antacids and a picture of a meatball sitting on a plate of spaghetti. Tapped to the antacid bottle was a post-it with Steve’s writing on it, saying “To keep New York’s best producer from getting an ulcer.” Across the top of the meatball picture was the caption “Just to clarify, this is what a meatball looks like.”

At that moment, Maria walked in, scrolling down her phone. “We’ve got the numbers for Lucky’s big debut and they’re not bad.” She stopped at Bucky’s desk.

Bucky looked up, the bottle and picture still in his hands and a grin across his face.

Maria looked at the picture and caption then back to Bucky’s expression. “So I’m thinking that it might be a regular thing.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
